the writings of a manboy with a spotted bed sheet

The Metamorphosis II

He had turned into a cockroach that day, and on finding out, he realized that he was near the chair he had sat on last night. He wondered why he had not become a cockroach on the chair rather than beside it, as that was probably where he had fallen asleep and stayed all night. He concluded that he must have fallen off at some point, perhaps right when he was turning into a cockroach. He decided to moved then, to find someone to explain the matter to, and especially to inquire on his position on and off the chair. It took quite some time for him to push himself through under his room’s door, and even longer to move to the kitchen, where there was usually someone either eating or cooking. On the way, he thought of whether it was now his room that he had left, as it would be quite absurd to mention a cockroach’s name on immensely formal legal documents and leases. Even if such a thing happened, it would be no difficult business for judges to take it away from him and announce the documents invalid, because it would be hardly manageable for a cockroach to get a decent lawyer. And he would also have difficulty paying the expenses, since there seems not to be many secure ways of money transaction for cockroaches and similar insects. Then, as he contemplated the legal consequences of being a cockroach, he reached the surface of the kitchen ground. While he made his way inside, an inhabitant of the house walked out through the door, laughing at an amusing text she had received, stepped on him on the way, and left the kitchen.